


you stole my money (and maybe my heart)

by blushao (horizsan)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Inspired by a Tumblr Prompt, M/M, No Sexual Content, pickpocket!minghao, royal guard!junhui, this doesn't really have much plot to it but it's cute so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horizsan/pseuds/blushao
Summary: In which Minghao, a pickpocket, flirts with Junhui, a royal guard, to steal his wallet, and maybe steals a little more than his money.
Relationships: Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	you stole my money (and maybe my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this for a while, it definitely took me longer than i thought it would, but it's finally finished, yay!
> 
> the prompt: "i flirted with you in order to steal your wallet" au (i found this on tumblr i don't remember where)
> 
> warnings: i can't think of any besides slight profanity, and mentions of prostitution (prostitutes are also referred to as whores in conversation, but nothing involving them is graphic, they're just offhandedly mentioned, which is why this isn't rated mature), and there's also mentions of death of a sibling and a child being dragged under a wagon and having his head impaled on an axel (these events are not related), so if any of these things are an issue, i would suggest not reading this if you think you cannot handle it.
> 
> besides that, enjoy! i figured i would post this to give me some serotonin before i take my ap literature exam today, and make me feel a bit better. good luck to anyone taking their ap exams this week and next week, we got this!

The market is absolute chaos, exactly what Minghao lives and breathes for, exactly what the pickpocket thrives on. Wagons filled with burlap bags of wheat and baskets of freshly imported fruit move through the streets, ratty stray dogs weaving in and out of their wooden wheels. Little children steal rides on these wagons, taking running starts and having their friends boost them up, curling up as small as they possibly can and hiding between the merchandise. The cart drivers always pretend not to notice, but Minghao knows they always do. Merchants yell into the open air, everyone advertising different wares, from fresh blackberries to fancy cigarettes that everyone knows only noblemen have the money to pay for. Prostitutes sit on porches winking at men who walk by, sometimes building enough courage to whistle or call out to them.

This bustling deafening chaos is exactly what Minghao needs to pull off the petty crimes he so loves. The only trouble he ever runs into is scuffles with the royal guards that patrol the streets (who will occasionally arrest him and imprison him for about an hour before letting him go), but on days like these, it will be easier than ever for Minghao to lose them, leaving them choking on his dust. A tiny smirk creeps onto the lanky man’s lips, and he runs up to a wagon, hoisting himself up and leaping over the side, being especially careful not to get his feet stuck between the spokes of its wheels. If he did, that would end in a broken leg, and possibly death if he got pulled beneath the wheels. He saw a child get pulled under once, and the wagon had carried the boy’s head on an axle for miles, or so the prostitutes said. Those women are notorious gossips, but more often than not, they’re reliable sources.

Minghao lets the wagon carry him into the dead center of the market, where things are busiest. This is both a blessing and a curse. It will be easy to hide himself among a crowd like this, but because of said huge crowd, there are twice as many royal guards posted here as there are anywhere else. It’s a risk he’s willing to take. He hops off the back of the wagon, scanning the market for a worthy target. You don’t steal from people who have nothing of value, obviously.

His eyes lock in on his chosen victim: a pretty little royal guard who’s alone at his post, his eyes darting around as though he’s trying to focus on everything around him at once. Minghao makes his way over to the man, and realizes he isn’t quite as little as Minghao had thought him to be. In fact, he’s about the same height as Minghao is, if not a few centimeters taller. Minghao sidles up next to him against the wall of the building the guard is leaning on. “Hello, sir. Sweet weather to match your sweet face, isn’t it?”

All goes according to plan, as the guard immediately becomes flustered, the tips of his ears burning red and a rosy blush dusting his cheeks. His voice shakes a bit, and he splutters, “I- Why, I suppose so. Do you desire something from me, sir?”

Minghao chuckles, and replies, “No, sir, only a decent conversation. I’ve grown bored of listening to the whores gossip about one thing or another. It’s very interesting, but after a while, you get sick of it, in a way.”

The guard looks very taken aback by Minghao’s words, particularly the ones about gossiping with prostitutes apparently, as his eyes had grown especially wide at their utterance. “I- Well, I suppose I could humor you for a bit.”

Minghao inches closer to the guard, who seems to somehow be growing prettier by the second, each one of which Minghao is watching pass by on the gold pocket watch he had stolen from an old man two years prior. “Although, come to think of it, looking at that pretty face of yours could keep me occupied for all eternity.” He even goes so far as to throw a wink at the other man, watching as the guard’s cheeks grow progressively darker red, going from tomato to cherry to what could be considered a beet-like shade.

The guard turns his head away from Minghao in embarrassment, his eyes fixed on a point on the other side of the square. This gives Minghao the opening he needs, and he reaches an expert hand behind the distracted man, swiftly untying the leather pouch around his waist which Minghao knows will be filled with gold, tucking it into the massive pocket of his extremely baggy pants. “Well, sir, it was lovely to let my eyes feast upon your face for a moment, but I really must be going.”

Before the guard can even turn to face him, Minghao is gone, weaving through the crowd and leaping into the back of another wagon, tucking himself in between two burlap bags filled with what felt like potatoes.The fabric of the bags is very itchy against his bare arms, but it’s something he’ll just have to deal with. Suffering through a brief period of being uncomfortable is better than being caught and arrested.

As the wagon gets close to the outskirts of the city, almost close enough to the gate to be within view of the guards posted there, Minghao ditches his ride, ducking into a familiar alley. He climbs through an open window, startling the boy sitting a few feet away from it. Minghao waves the pouch in the air, and lets out a tiny squeal of excitement. He lowers his voice to a whisper, and hisses through his teeth, “I got this from one of the royal guards! This is bound to have enough gold in it to get us through the week, maybe longer.”

The boy leans forward on his knees, his dark eyes sparkling with unbridled excitement. “Count it, count it!” He grabs Minghao’s wrists, pulling the man down to his level.

Minghao chuckles, and pushes the boy’s hands away. “Whoa, okay, okay! Calm down, Channie. I’ll count it.” He shifts into a more comfortable position, so that his knees aren’t digging into the room’s sandstone floors. Chan pulls a small cloth out of his pocket, fluffs it out, and lays it down on the floor between them, in order to muffle the sound of the golden coins hitting the ground. Minghao opens the bag and pours the coins out onto the cloth as quietly as possible.

Other things fall out too: small trinkets and knick-knacks that aren’t worth much, and a silver locket that has semi-precious gems outlining a picture of a beautiful woman inside it. Normally, Minghao would sell the locket, but it feels wrong for some reason, the thought alone making his stomach twist itself into knots as though the organ had become a rope. The photo is probably of someone who means a lot to that pretty guard. Minghao will have to figure out a way to return it to him without letting him know he had stolen it in the first place. He sighs, and Chan raises an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong, Minghao? This is so much gold, this could get us through more than this week. And we could sell that pretty silver necklace for a pretty good price.”

Minghao shakes his head, and in a voice barely above a whisper, replies, “We’re not selling the locket.” Another thought pops into his head. What if those little worthless trinkets hold sentimental value for the man as well as the locket? “And we aren’t selling the little knick-knacks either. I’m going to find a way to give those back to the guard.”

Chan is so moved by this statement that he stands up from his spot on the floor, and exclaims, “What?! But that necklace is worth so much! That’s sterling silver, and it’s in perfect condition. And it’s got other precious jewels on it, too! We could get some extra money from that. The trinkets don’t matter, but...Minghao, what’s gotten into you? You would usually jump at the chance to sell a piece of jewelry like that.”

Minghao picks up the locket, popping it open with his fingernail. The chain slips through his fingers, making a small scraping noise as it brushes against the ground. He stays silent, staring at the picture with a gaze so intense he’s almost worried he might set it on fire. The woman staring inanimately back at him is absolutely stunning. She wears a simple dress, which is some light color, perhaps white or yellow, or maybe a pale shade of pink or blue. It accentuates her figure perfectly, cinched at the waist and flaring out the tiniest bit at the hips. Her eyes are dark, open wide but not too wide and shining with the light of a thousand galaxies. Her nose is the perfect size to align with the rest of her facial features, and her lips dip and curve in all the right places. Even simply through a slightly grainy black-and-white photograph, Minghao can tell her hair is soft. She bears an extremely close resemblance to the guard he had brazenly stolen her from, and Minghao wonders whether she’s his mother, or perhaps his sister.

“This is worth more than any amount of money to someone. This holds value that transcends wealth. This is a photo of someone who probably means a lot to the guard I took this pouch from. Having this stolen probably feels to him like the time you lost the bracelet I made for you on your fourteenth birthday. You wept bitterly on that day, until I found it tucked between your mattress and the floor, and you shouted and jumped for joy so the whole neighborhood could hear you. You remember that?” Minghao lifts his head to meet Chan’s eyes, and snaps the locket closed.

Chan nods, and replies, “I suppose that makes sense, but how are you going to return the necklace to him without him knowing you were the person who stole his pouch?”

Minghao shrugs. “I don’t have the slightest idea. But I’ll figure it out, somehow.”

-

Minghao weaves his way through the crowd in the market once more, a cloak hiding his face from view, plunging his features into shadow. He plans to set the pouch, which has the locket and small trinkets in it, down on the ground by the guard’s feet and then bolt. He has no better ideas, and no other plans that are safer. He’ll risk arrest doing this, but it felt wrong to keep things that have value to someone’s heart and soul rather than their greedy money-seeking mind.

He catches sight of the guard, who is standing in the same place he had been yesterday, an expression on his (as expected) angelic face that’s a mixture of fury and grief. Minghao knows this won’t end well if he gets recognized, so he decides that he won’t say anything at all. It’s too risky. He knows the other man will recognize the sound of his voice.

He walks up to the guard, slowly places the pouch down in front of his boots, and immediately whips around and sprints in the opposite direction. The guard yells after him, screaming, “Stop! Thief!” to anyone who can hear him, which to Minghao’s misfortune, is quite a lot of people. Minghao turns his head back towards the guard to see if he’s following, which is a massive mistake. The high velocity at which he’s moving and the fact that his cloak snags on the corner of a merchant’s stall are both factors in the catastrophic event of his hood coming off of his head, revealing his face to the guard. Minghao quickly unsnags himself from the stall, and runs away as fast as he can, not bothering to catch a ride in a wagon this time. He knows he can run faster than the wagons will be able to move through a crowd this thick.

He pulls his hood back over his head, running until he physically can’t anymore. He knows he’d managed to evade anyone who had been following him long ago, but just to be safe, he walks into the nearest alley to catch his breath, and hides himself behind blankets hanging from a clothesline.

He wants to go back in time and kick himself for looking back. Now the guard has recognized him, and knows for sure he was the one who had stolen gold coins that were probably a whole week’s salary. He knows what Minghao looks like, and can describe him to other guards, who will surely be looking for him. Some of them even know his name, as they’ve let him off for smaller pickpocketing jobs in the past. But this? This one was huge. He’d not only robbed a royal guard, which was a heavier offense in itself, but he’d stolen quite a large sum of money from him. This wasn’t just stealing a few coins from some random slightly-well-off person to buy candy for Chan as a surprise. This was something that would have much greater repercussions if he were to be caught and brought in.

Minghao takes a deep breath, and peeks between two hanging blankets to see if there are any guards walking the streets in front of him. They’re clear for now, so he darts out into the roads, keeping close to the buildings in order to stay in the shadows they cast, and making sure to keep the hood of his cloak pulled low over his face. He makes it home, and climbs through the window in the alley again instead of going through the front door. Although they do indeed have a door that works, Minghao prefers to enter through windows. He feels as though it’s better suited to his nature. 

He immediately shoves his cloak underneath his mattress, and pulls Chan’s out from a wooden crate in the corner. Chan’s cloak has gone unused for a while, as the younger boy rarely leaves the house except to go to school. Whenever he does leave the house, he believes that wearing a cloak is unnecessary, unless it’s cold outside, which it almost never is. He puts it on, although it’s a little too short, stopping at his knees instead of halfway down his calves. Chan, who is sitting in a corner, looks up at Minghao with worried eyes. “You’ve gotten yourself caught, haven’t you?”

When Minghao doesn’t answer, he says it again. “You’ve gotten yourself caught, haven’t you, Minghao?” Minghao remains silent, not even looking in the younger boy’s direction. Chan, with a touch of anger in his voice now, presses further. “Minghao, answer me.” Minghao can tell just by the way he speaks that the boy is gritting his teeth together, he’s so furious.

“I’m sorry, Chan. I shouldn’t have looked back to see if he was chasing after me. I should have been paying better attention. I got my hood snagged on a stall, and it came off when I was facing him. I’m sure guards will be looking for me.”

Almost as if he had summoned them into existence just by talking about them, there’s a loud banging on the door. “Royal guards, we have some questions to ask.”

Chan’s eyes widen, and he hisses under his breath, “Minghao, hide! I’ll stall them for as long as I can, and try to get them to leave.”

Minghao shakes his head, and whispers, “It’s no use. There’s nowhere to hide in here, anyways. It’s one room, no hiding places. I’m going to climb out the window into the alley and try to get far away from here, alright? Don’t let them hurt you, Channie. Remember what we practiced, if they try to touch you, knee to the groin, fist to the throat. Put your whole body into it, okay?”

The banging on the door intensifies, and a gruff voice yells, “Is anyone home? We need to ask some questions about the whereabouts of Xu Minghao.” 

Chan raises his voice, and calls out, “I’ll be there in just a moment, sir!” He nudges Minghao, and whispers, “Go, now.”

Minghao nods, and climbs back out the window just the way he had come, heading deeper into the alley instead of out towards the street. He knows Chan will be fine. The boy is an expert liar, and will never crack under pressure. He’d been taught by the best, after all. However, he catches sight of something at the end of the alley that makes him freeze, his blood turning to ice and his bones to water. It’s another royal guard, standing strong and tall, sword drawn. His shoulders seem to be at least twice as broad as Minghao’s, although he knows that’s not physically possible. Minghao groans as he realizes who the guard is, resisting the urge to roll his eyes so far back in his head he can stare right into the wrinkles of his brain.

The guard calls out to him, “Xu Minghao, is that you? Such a shame, you’ve gotten caught! You’ve got nowhere to go, you wretched thief.”

Minghao swears under his breath, then raises his voice. “Kim Mingyu? Goodness, I haven’t seen you since you let me go for stealing a lollipop from that one vendor you like, what was his name? Jeon something, was it?”

Mingyu replies with lightning speed, “Jeon Wonwoo,” then cuts himself off immediately, clearly embarrassed at his quick response, stomping one foot hard onto the stone ground of the alleyway. The sound echoes a bit, and Mingyu says, “You may as well let me arrest you. We’ve got men behind you too, and there are walls on either side of you. You’re completely surrounded, you’ve got no way out.”

Minghao pulls the hood of Chan’s cloak off his head, and bows it low, staring at his own feet. He knows Mingyu is right. There’s truly nowhere for him to go, and there’s no possibility he could escape. As much as he would love to have the ability to scale walls in mere seconds, it’s one of the few things he can’t do. Once he’s brought to jail, he can only hope that the gods will be on his side, and that he’ll get time off for good behavior.

He walks towards Mingyu, holding his hands out. “Go ahead. Arrest me, then.”

A bewildered look flashes on Mingyu’s face for a split second, but he shakes it off quickly. He sheathes his sword, pulling a chain out of his satchel, which he wraps tightly around Minghao’s wrists. Minghao winces as the steel of the chain digs into his skin, but he lets Mingyu lead him out of the alley and through the streets toward the inner city, passing through the gate which leads to the palace. He is immediately brought down to the dungeon, and closed into a cell with a raggedy old woman who spends her time muttering under her breath and folding and unfolding a swan she’d made out of paper.

Minghao makes sure to stay as far away from her as he can. Her nails look sharp, and he’s fortunate she’s chained to the wall, as she keeps attempting to leap forward at him whenever he dares to look in her general direction. He curls up in a ball, his knees tucked up to his chest, leaning back against the cold stone walls on the opposite side of the cell. He stays there in that slightly uncomfortable position for what felt like eternity, but is probably only a few hours.

He hears footsteps coming down the stairs outside the cell, and perks up a little bit. Maybe he’ll be able to ask someone for water. There’s a puddle in one corner of the cell, but it’s within reach of the origami woman and it looks very questionable. Minghao isn’t even sure that it’s water, but he doesn’t want to think about all the other things it could be.

To Minghao’s surprise, the person coming down the stairs is the attractive guard he had stolen from. He thumbs through a whole bunch of keys hanging off a chain until he finds what must be the right one, even though they all look pretty much the same to Minghao. He unlocks the cell door, and snaps, “Get up, Minghao. Come with me.”

Minghao snaps his head back in shock, immediately regretting it as he hits his head on the wall behind him. “What do you mean? I thought I was to be imprisoned for at least a few more days. I stole quite a hefty amount of gold from a royal guard.”

The man laughs, an angelic sound which Minghao’s ears take great pleasure in hearing. “Yes, but you’re lucky you stole from me. I’m nicer than all the rest.”

Minghao rolls his eyes, and shoots back, “Oh, sure you are. Yelling ‘thief’ in a crowded public place when I gave you half your stuff back is just  _ so _ sweet of you.” He gets to his feet, an action that his knees sharply disagree with, and leans back against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for the guard to respond.

The guard does reply, casting his eyes down at the stone floor, which is beginning to grow either moss or mold. Minghao can’t tell which, and isn’t sure he wants to know. “Thank you for that, by the way. I don’t care about the money, but that necklace meant a lot to me, Xu Minghao.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Mingyu told me who you were. Anyhow, I’m bailing you out.” He pauses for dramatic effect, and snickers. “Because I’m nice. Come with me.”

Minghao takes a few tentative steps forward, still not quite sure whether he can trust the guard. “Tell me your name, and then I’ll go with you.”

The guard blows a short breathy laugh out his nose, but agrees to Minghao’s demand. “It’s Junhui. Wen Junhui. Happy?”

Minghao nods, and walks all the way across the cell to stand right in front of the guard. “Very much so, sir. But I have one more question. Who’s the woman in that locket?”

Junhui shakes his head, and waves a finger in front of Minghao’s face, denying his request. “Not yet. I’ll tell you that when we get to our destination.”

Minghao heaves a sigh, and shakes his head, his lips pressed tightly together and stretched into a thin line. “You’re quite insufferable, you know that?”

-

When Junhui finally grants Minghao permission to open his eyes, (which he’s very grateful for as he’s spent about half an hour stumbling over things, tripping, and grazing his shoulders against walls; and of course Junhui simply couldn’t resist making the effectively blind Minghao climb a few staircases), they are not at all where Minghao had imagined they’d be. Minghao had thought Junhui was going to bring him back home to Chan, or maybe to the market.

Instead they’re standing atop the ramparts of the city walls, looking out over the vast expanse of sand that stretches for miles, its blank canvas sometimes broken by a scraggly tree. A mischievous smile forms on Minghao’s face, and he nudges Junhui, pointing to the bent-over, tangled mass of branches. “That tree looks like the woman I was in that cell with.”

Junhui laughs, a loud and hearty laugh, his entire body shaking a bit, as though it can’t contain the joy Minghao’s snide comment has brought him. “You know, it’s not every day I meet someone with a sense of humor as good as yours.”

Minghao’s eyes narrow in confusion, and he replies, “But I’m not funny. Or at least not as funny as you seem to think I am. If you think  _ I’m _ funny, what sort of boring people do you normally hang around with?”

“Well, Mingyu would surely put his sword through my stomach if he heard this, so keep this between you and I, but he’s pretty boring. His sense of humor is just horrible puns.” Junhui places one of his pointer fingers on Minghao’s lips, and Minghao wants to push down the tingly feeling it gives him, but he ends up awkwardly jerking back because it tickles.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.” Minghao keeps his mouth closed tight for a while, just staring out across the desert as the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky until it appears to dip below the surface of the sand, bidding the city goodbye until the next morning. As the sky above their heads turns a deep shade of indigo, Minghao finally breaks the silence again. “Why did you bring me here?”

Junhui’s eyes slide over to gaze at Minghao in Junhui’s peripheral vision, and the guard replies, “This is my favorite place in the city. It’s nice to be up here, and just forget about everyone and everything else for a while. Do you have a place like this?”

Minghao ponders this, silence thickening in the air around them for a few moments as he does so. “No, I don’t. When I’m not in the market finding someone to pettily steal things from, I’m at home with my little brother. He might not be much younger than me, but the difference between the two of us is that I’m an adult and Chan isn’t.” Minghao chuckles at this, knowing if Chan were here, he would argue, and protest that he’s basically an adult at this point.

Junhui chews on his bottom lip, his eyes downcast, deep in thought. When his eyes flick back up to look at Minghao, he asks, “Why do you steal? I mean, you risk arrest and being thrown in jail and not having a ridiculously handsome guard,” he winks, “bail you out. Why do you do it?”

Minghao doesn’t expect that he’ll need to think about his answer, he expects some snarky response to just roll off his tongue, but that doesn’t happen. So he thinks, long and hard.  _ Why do I steal? It’s not because I can’t get a job and make money, because I can. So why do I do it? _ After some minutes, he finally comes up with an answer. He meets Junhui’s eyes, and says, “I do it for Chan. Yes, I could get a job, a real honest job, and make money like that. But any job I could get would barely pay enough to survive, and Chan deserves more than just survival. He deserves better. So I get him better. Not by legal means, but I get him closer to what he deserves.” Minghao pauses for a second, then scoffs. “I mean, that boy deserves to live like a prince, bathed in riches and waited on hand and foot, but I can’t get him that. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Junhui remains silent for a moment after listening to Minghao’s little speech, and when he does finally open his mouth and say something, he whispers, “You must care about him a lot,” his voice graced with a touch of awe.

Minghao gives Junhui a soft smile, and replies, “Yes, I do. I suppose if I could, I would give him the world, but I’m one man. If my arms were long enough, I would reach up into the sky and pluck every star in it along with the moon and give them to him if he asked.” Minghao heaves a sigh. “I just wish we were born into better circumstances.”

Junhui tentatively reaches out a hand, and grips one of Minghao’s inside his curled fingers. “I wish that for you as well.” He tightens his grip on Minghao’s hand, and gives it a gentle tug, leading Minghao back down the stairs to ground level. They walk through the empty streets, torches on walls lighting their path every so often. As they pass through the market where Minghao stole Junhui’s pouch, Junhui speaks again. “That woman in the locket is my little sister. Or, rather, was. I cared for her in much the same way you care for Chan. I believed that she deserved everything she could ever want, and I wanted to give those things to her. So I became a royal guard, hoping I would make enough money at this job to make her even half as happy as I thought she deserved.”

It’s here that Minghao cuts him off, interrupting with, “You can’t just become a royal guard. You have to be born into some sort of aristocracy…” His voice trails off as he realizes. “Oh. You  _ were _ born into aristocracy.”

Junhui nods. “Yes, yes I was.” He continues telling Minghao about his sister, his voice soft and fragile, as though it will break any second. “I made enough money to make her happy, because she was happy no matter what. She didn’t need precious jewelry or expensive dresses, she said she just needed to be living in the world, and enjoying her time here.” Junhui’s voice cracks severely, as though he’s choking back a sob. Minghao tightens his grip on Junhui’s hand, furrowing his brow in concern.

“Junhui, are you alright?”

Junhui nods, and swallows, his eyes squinted tightly shut. “Yes.” He takes a deep breath, then whispers, in the most delicate way, like he’s scared his voice will disappear if he speaks too sharply, “I think that when she said this, she jinxed herself, in a way, for she became very sick a few days after she uttered these words, and died within a week of falling ill.”

Minghao’s chest tightens a bit at this. He’s never been very good at comforting people, and as he grows older, he seems to get worse at it. So he just squeezes Junhui’s hand tighter, and then, deciding that’s not enough, pulls the man closer to him, wrapping both arms around Junhui’s torso. He knows he probably shouldn’t, but he presses a gentle kiss to the guard’s forehead. Thankfully, Junhui either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He returns Minghao’s hug, and Minghao can feel the man’s body start to tremble a bit. He’s crying. Minghao swears inside his head, and he tries his hardest to comfort Junhui further, gently tracing circles and other patterns on the man’s back with his fingers. The gods must have been looking down upon Minghao and decided to show him mercy, because it works. Junhui stops crying after about five minutes, and pulls away from Minghao, drying his eyes with a handkerchief.

“Thank you, Minghao.”

Minghao is halfway through saying, “My pleasure,” when Junhui does something quite rash. He grips both of Minghao’s arms, and pulls the man closer to him, smashing their foreheads together. Minghao sharply draws his head back and hisses, “Ow!”

Junhui immediately grips Minghao tighter, pulling him closer again for an examination of the possible injury. “Goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just…”

“You were just what? Trying to see if my head would pass through yours?! I hate to disappoint, Junhui, but I’m no spectre!”

Junhui’s voice is barely loud enough for Minghao to hear when he whispers, “No, I was trying to kiss you. You’re quite beautiful, you know. A sight for sore eyes, if you will.”

Minghao’s eyes widen, and he breathes out, “Oh…” He bites his lip, shifting his eyes to look anywhere but at Junhui.

“May I?”

“May you what?”

Junhui chuckles, and replies, “Kiss you, you bumbling idiot.”

Minghao laughs right back, and snaps, “Well, now you can’t.”

Junhui’s mouth drops open, his expression a mixture of shock, and feigned anger at this betrayal. “And why ever not?”

“You called me a bumbling idiot, you bumbling idiot!”

“Well, I don’t think that’s quite fair-”

Minghao shuts him up by pressing his lips to Junhui’s, for a grand total of one, two, three seconds before pulling away just as Junhui starts to kiss back.

Junhui pouts, and says, “Well, I don’t think that’s quite fair, either.”

Minghao smirks, and shoots back, “Well, Junhui, nothing in life is quite fair, now, is it?” He turns on his heel and sprints down the road, leaving Junhui to chase after him. A wide smile spreads on Minghao’s face, and he’s starting to think getting caught wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think, seeing a number that isn't 0 in the parentheses after inbox makes my day :D
> 
> again, good luck to anyone taking ap exams this week, or next week. i know this is hard, but we'll get through it. just keep swimming. <3 i love you


End file.
